


Worth It

by peachmeowzipan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Fluff, Friendship, Gender-neutral Reader, Heavily Implied/Referenced Suicide Plans, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Drugs, Other, Papyrus smokes monster weed, Reader is Suicidal, Reader is not Frisk or Chara, for a story about suicide it's actually not that dark, i_have_never_done_hallucinogenic_drugs.txt, it's hallucinogenic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 06:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18493273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmeowzipan/pseuds/peachmeowzipan
Summary: “Don't wanna give it 'till tomorrow, huh?” he asked carefully, and you couldn't help but snort gently.“I'm just... tired of waiting,” you mumbled in a low voice, and he hummed again. More silence stretched between you, the gun feeling heavier and heavier in your pocket. You eventually heard him flick his lighter again.“Here,” he said as he held a fresh joint out to you, and you eyed it curiously, gaze flickering from his hand to his face, where a tired smirk was playing at his teeth. He shrugged, lifting his hand almost insistently, wordlessly asking you to take it; you did, holding it gently between your fingers. “Might as well, huh? If yer goin' out, anyway.”You couldn't argue with that, so you put the joint to your lips, inhaling deeply.





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> been having a lot of bad days recently, so i wrote this to kind of vent? i guess
> 
> it made me feel a little better anyway, and i really like it, so i wanted to share it.

“Hey, mind if I sit– whoa, okay.”

You glanced up from your seat next to the riverbank. You were cross-legged on the damp ground, hunched against the creeping, early-winter chill that was settling over all of Ebott as December came ever closer, and a tall skeleton monster was standing next to you with what looked like a purple joint hanging from his black-gloved fingers, a permanent, mild scowl etched onto his tired skull. He was wearing ripped black jeans and an over-large purple hoodie, both of which hung loose on his frame. Sharp teeth sat in a jagged line across his jaw, twin fangs glinting gold in the low light of evening, and oblong sockets hung tiredly with hard lines etched beneath them, as if hinting at a severe lack of sleep. The small, violet lights inside weren't focused on _you_ , though, not your face or your eyes.

He was looking at the pistol in your lap.

“Oh,” you said, voice a quiet drone as you shifted the gun slowly with one hand, tucking it into the large pocket of your pull-over hoodie. He tensed with the motion, lights never straying from the gun, even when it was out of sight. “Sorry,” you mumbled as you removed your now-empty hand from your pocket, turning away to look out over the water again as it babbled by in the river below.

Quiet seconds crept by.

“What's that for?” he asked finally, his tone dangerously low, carefully neutral. You paused before answering, one shoulder lifting in a halfhearted shrug.

“Not gonna use it on anybody,” you said quietly, a deep frown tugging at your lips. He took another moment, and you heard a lighter flick beside you, then a sickly-sweet smell drifted down from where he stood, glittery, light purple smoke curling through the air and wafting towards you. It didn't burn when you breathed it in, but it tickled at your nose, just a little. You sneezed quietly, and he made a soft noise, as if in acknowledgment.

“Gesundheit,” he muttered while you sniffed.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. After a long moment, he crouched down low, his knee entering the corner of your vision.

“Izzat fer you, then?” he asked.

You sent a quick glance his way, and your expression must have twisted, because the ever-present crease between his brows deepened, and he sucked in a great breath between his teeth, then exhaled a plume of purple smoke. It smelled almost like frosting, you realized. Blueberry frosting. You looked away.

“Why?” he went on emphatically, and you exhaled a silent breath through your nose, eyes downcast. You watched the river, zeroing in on the tiny minnows that swarmed by the bank; little dark shadows darting to and fro just beneath the murky surface.

You _could_ tell him. You could explain the feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, of wanting and wishing desperately to feel like anybody just _cared_ about you– the way you needed, the way you were craving. To feel genuinely wanted, anywhere, by anybody– to feel loved. You could explain how difficult everything was for you, how nothing was _ever_ simple, even the things that were _supposed_ to be, and you just kept _messing things up_. You could explain how it wasn't getting better, how it had _neve_ r got better, despite how every adult had said it would, like a mantra, while you were growing up. You could explain how it only ever seemed to get worse, especially when you entered adulthood, how _you_ only ever seemed to get worse, because something was just _wrong_ with you, and you were _trying_ , you _had_ been trying, but–

You _could_ tell him, but instead you sighed, tired gaze lifting to finally make eye contact. You gestured limply with one arm at nothing, at everything.

“There's nothing for me, here,” you said in a hollow voice. He took another drag from the purple blunt, eye lights watching you before flickering away from your face to stare at the trees on the opposite shore. You turned as well, slumping forward slightly on your elbows and clasping your hands loosely in front of your knees. Finally, he hummed.

“Don't wanna give it 'till tomorrow, huh?” he asked carefully, and you couldn't help but snort gently.

“I'm just... tired of waiting,” you mumbled in a low voice, and he hummed again. More silence stretched between you, the gun feeling heavier and heavier in your pocket. You eventually heard him flick his lighter again.

“Here,” he said as he held a fresh joint out to you, and you eyed it curiously, gaze flickering from his hand to his face, where a tired smirk was playing at his teeth. He shrugged, lifting his hand almost insistently, wordlessly asking you to take it; you did, holding it gently between your fingers. “Might as well, huh? If yer goin' out, anyway.”

You couldn't argue with that, so you put the joint to your lips, inhaling deeply.

This one smelled and tasted like raspberries, the sudden explosion of flavor making your jaw cramp up slightly. The reddish-purple smoke tickled violently at your lungs and chest, and your coughs morphed between laughter and hacking as you shook yourself. He reached out a gloved hand to pat your back, making an amused sort of noise.

“Easier goin' in'n it is goin' out,” he said, a laugh behind his voice. You coughed a few more times into your fist, and started feeling the effects almost immediately. It made you feel... lighter, like you were almost happy, but also weightless and floaty. Everything felt _okay_. It didn't make you nauseous, despite the way your head swam with vertigo, and your vision swam with lights. You looked around.

Everything was so... _shiny_... and _beautiful_. The colors were so vivid, melting into one another like acrylic paint and shifting between hues and shades of vibrant emotions. You could _feel_ them, you could almost _taste_ them, and when you looked back to him, you started crying.

He was _glowing_. A bright halo of light surrounded him like an aura, shifting in iridescent colors and feelings. You were feeling everything at once, and it was... a lot.

“'Ey, 'ey. Easy there,” he chuckled, hand still pressed to your back as tears spilled forth silently and tracked hot and fast down your cheeks. You breathed out a quiet sob as you looked at him, taking another long drag and holding it for just a second before breathing it back out in a cloud of mauve smoke. It was easier this time, but it still tickled at your lungs, tongue, and nose on the way out. “There ya go. Easy. Take it slow, pal.”

“Is everything always _like this?_ ” you babbled thickly through your tears, eyes moving quickly to see everything before you missed it, “Has it– has it been this way the whole _time?_ It's all so– and I can _see_ it, I can– It's– it's so p- _pretty_ , it's all so _pretty_ ,”. A bird flew by, surrounded by a similar aura to the skeleton, and you gasped, then looked down at the minnows. They were tiny beams of silver, swirling around one another like a pool of living spirits. You choked out another sob that morphed into a delighted sound as you scrambled up to your knees and leaned over the edge of the bank, balancing on one arm and holding the joint with the other.

“Careful,” he chided, his voice shaking with quiet laughter as he grasped the back of your hoodie to keep you from toppling forward.

“ _Look_ at them,” you sobbed, voice suddenly turning miserable, “They don't even know I'm _here_ , do they?” He leaned forward too, chuckling gently as he watched the minnows with you.

“Nah,” he said softly, and you sobbed again, shaking your head and crouching low.

“They don't know,” you mumbled, stretching out to lay on your stomach as you watched them swirl and dance. “They don't know. They're so beautiful, I love them. I love them, and they'll never know.”

“Nope,” he said, rubbing circles against your back, “S'okay, though. They love you, too.”

You started sobbing in earnest at those words, your whole frame wracked with hard, loud cries that tore through your core, like paper being ripped to shreds. You fell apart, in pieces like little shards of colored glass, then you clicked back together, one piece at a time, still broken, still shaky. You sobbed yellow, and it turned blue, then teal morphed into indigo, and the air was tinted with it, thick with it. You were rolling onto your side, curling around him where he crouched next to you, as if trying to hide.

“I'm scared,” you whined, crying even as he shushed you, “I'm so _scared_. All the t- _time_.”

“I know,” he murmured, hand still rubbing comforting circles against your back, “S'okay.”

“What do I _do_ , now?” you wailed, curling in. Your knees brushed against his pelvis, your shoulders tucked in under his knee. “It's all m- _melting_. It's all ch- _changing_.”

“I know,” he said again, tone comforting as he petted your back, somehow humming a gentle tune, even as he continued to speak. His voice doubled, then tripled, then was gone entirely, but you could still _hear_ him. “It's okay. Yer doin' yer best. That's all anybody can ask a' ya, and yer worth _a lot more_ than they think. Yer doin' yer best. It's okay.”

“I'm _sorry_ ,” you moaned, sobbing hard as you curled in further, fingers clinging to the fabric of his ripped jeans. Your tears felt purple, then red. You didn't know where the joint went. You might have dropped it in the river. His other hand came down to thread through your hair, and he shushed you. “I'm so sorry. I'm _so sorry_. It _hurts_.”

“S'okay,” was all he said as he shushed you again, his voice gentle in the lingering light of day, his hands careful where they petted you on your back and scalp. “S'okay. Yer okay.”

You cried and cried until finally, your tired, burning eyes refused to open more than a crack. You fell asleep still curled in tight around his crouched form, your sobs having quieted to hitching breaths and tiny hiccups. When you woke up, it was early morning, and you were still molded around him, but he was sitting now, legs dangling over the edge and feet barely kissing the surface of the water. Your knees were flush against his back, and your head was pillowed in his lap. Tiredly, you gazed up at him.

The violet lights in his eye sockets were distant and unfocused, staring off as if at nothing, but trained on the opposing river bank. He was still glowing lightly, but his aura had dulled. It shone differently in the blue morning light, still iridescent like a beetle, but flickering like flames, the shifting rainbow burning hazy around his form. He was still smoking, but the joint was pink now, and the smoke was green. You stared for endless moments as it curled up into the sky, and you could see it float all the way up into space. It smelled like watermelon candy.

You watched him for an immeasurable amount of time, too, before he took notice, gaze flickering down to you. His eye sockets seemed to crinkle slightly, and he tilted his skull down.

“'Ey there, lil' fish,” he murmured, gloved claws immediately moving to rest against your scalp again. He scratched gently, and you let out a quiet, gentle sob at the motion. His sockets crinkled further. “Mornin'. How's it treatin' ya?”

“It's all still there,” you said softly, voice pitched up slightly. You sniffled, tucking your head against his femur and squinting at his hoodie. “S'bright. Pretty.”

“Yeah, first time's like that,” he said, his voice still quiet, “Managed t'grab it before ya dropped it, by the way. Still got it, if ya wanna finish it later. Prolly don't need any more right now, tho. Strong stuff. 'Specially fer a human.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, eyes closing again, and you curled in tighter around him. He chuckled.

“Back to sleep, lil' fish,” he was saying, but your head was already swimming in sand and shifting colors, melting up and down and expanding beyond the edges of your consciousness. You were out before he finished his sentence, fists curled tight against your chest.

When you woke up again, it was a lot brighter, and you winced against the shift in light. He was still there, sitting with you, although it seemed like he had moved you at some point. The two of you were sitting against a tree, now, a little further from the water. You were sprawled out on your side across his lap, facing the river, and you sniffed– the air smelled like strawberries and cake.

He was still smoking.

“Hungry,” you mumbled absently, probably too quiet for him to understand. He shifted, hand settling on your shoulder.

“How ya feelin'?” he asked, and you sniffed, looking around. Everything was still a little brighter than it used to be, the colors still shifting and changing slightly. You could still feel them, could still taste them, but it was muted and distant, like they were getting farther away. You made a small sound, lugging yourself up into a sitting position and rubbing at your eyes. He took his hand back and rested it on his leg.

“Better?” you murmured uncertainly, unsure how to describe the feeling of coming down from this. You felt around in your pocket for your phone, and it was in there, miraculously, but something else wasn't. You glanced up at him instead of checking the time, frowning. He didn't look at you, but his expression changed, got a little harder around the edges. He hummed.

“Things are... _nice_ , up here,” he said quietly as you settled into a more comfortable position, crossing your legs and looking up at him idly. He still shimmered slightly, but the effect was fading, and you watched as he took a long pull from a red blunt, sending pink smoke into the air on his exhale. “Pretty. Like you said.” He paused for a moment and you waited, eyes lingering on his hand as he fidgeted. He seemed restless, almost. Or maybe he was uncomfortable. He suddenly extended his hand towards you, offering you a hit, and you stared, considering.

“Think I'm good for now,” you mumbled. He nodded, then took it back, taking another drag.

“Used to sit in this big room,” he went on, glittering smoke curling up from between his pointed teeth and coiling out through his nasal cavity, “Full a' crystals on the ceilin'. Just sit in there n' get blazed outta my fuckin' mind. Fer hours n' hours. Days, sometimes. Most gorgeous thing I ever saw.”

You hummed, gaze shifting again to the gently-sparkling river. You could imagine.

“Know what we called that room?” it was a rhetorical question, because of course you couldn't know. You shook your head, and he went on, “Wishin' room. We wished on crystals like stars, 'cause we never got to see the real ones.”

He seemed to hunch over slightly, then shifted a little closer to you. You didn't turn to look at him, but the smoke from his teeth curled across your vision, drifting over and up in a shimmering cloud.

“I'll let ya in on a secret,” he said quietly, arm slinging over your shoulder. He was holding the joint in this hand, hanging loosely from his fingers. You turned your head slightly to look at him, and his violet lights were trained on you, the crease in his brow deepening just so. “Tell ya what I used to wish for. Back when I was just layin' there high and useless, half-alive an' half-awake, an' starin' up at the crystals pretendin' as hard as I could that I was lookin' at the real thing.”

He lifted his hand and looped his arm around your neck to take a long drag through his teeth, then tilted his skull away to let the cloud go.

“What I wished for, every time? Was jus'... this,” he gestured around with the arm around your shoulders, at the trees and the river, and everything else you couldn't see from here. Then he gestured up towards the sky, a small grin tugging at his jagged teeth, “N' that. Jus'... wanted t'see all a' this. Wanted to breath _this_ air, wanted to wish on _these stars_. Jus' once. Jus' fer a while. Didn't care if I got to keep it, didn't care if I fell down right after I set foot on real soil. Jus' wanted _this_. So bad. Fer so long.”

You swallowed, eyes prickling slightly again as you looked down.

“N' I made it,” he murmured softly, squeezed your shoulders as he took another drag and sighed it out, tilting his skull back so the smoke drifted straight up and out, dispersing in the air and fading. “I know,” he went on, “S'hard. S'really hard. Sometimes... All the time... Every time.” He leaned closer and rested against you, and you let him, ducking your head to hide the silent tears that were overflowing to track down your cheeks. “But it's... maybe it's worth it. Fer this.”

And he gestured around again, at nothing, at everything.

“S' _all_ fer you, lil' fish,” he said gently, “S'fer all of us. Yer gonna be just fine, jus'... give it a lil' more time, huh?”

You couldn't help it– you started crying again, and he held you with one arm, shushing you gently as the morning grew old and turned to midday. Everything was normal again by then, everything stayed where it was supposed to be and nothing bled into anything else; none of the colors changed or shifted. You weren't feeling hungry anymore, but you knew that you still were.

He was lighting another joint as you calmed down, sniffling and clinging to his hoodie with one hand. It was purple, again. Blueberry smoke drifted up towards the clouds, and he sighed.

“Wanna eat?” he asked after a moment. You nodded, rubbing at swollen eyes as you leaned away from him. He hummed. “Where at? I know a shortcut t'that breakfast place. Th'one that sells pancakes.” They _all_ sold pancakes, but you knew what he was talking about. You sniffled.

“Okay,” you murmured, and he stood, dusting off the back of his jeans. He offered a hand to you, and you used it to pull yourself up, then tucked yours away in your pocket with the other one when you took it back. “Thanks, um... for sitting with me. Sharing.” A big, genuine smile pulled at his teeth, and his eye sockets crinkled up fondly.

“S'fine,” he said, taking another drag as he gestured for you to follow him. You did, trailing along behind him.

“I– um!” you hesitated, and he glanced back, stopped walking when he saw you weren't following. You pulled your hands out of your pocket to fidget with them in front of you, flushing slightly, “I don't... You never, uh... What's your name?” He blinked his sockets, then barked out a quiet laugh, turning to extend a hand towards you.

“Papyrus,” he said, and you took his gloved hand and shook it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
